


Tougher Than She Looks

by Will_Write_4_Coffee



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mob, Amanda is under cover, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, FBI Agent Fin Tutuola, FBI Agent Olivia Benson, Italian Mafia, Lawyer Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr., Mentions of Violence, Mentions of sex trafficking, Mob AU, Mobster/ Cop, Not Beta Read, Not beta'd we die like men, Slow Burn, Sonny is the mob's fixer, Sonny's in the Mob, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, The Carisis are Very Italian, UC Amanda Rollins, Undercover, oh god I'm not even sure I'm tagging this right but like SO MUCH happens okay, things get wacky, this AU got away from me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-28 23:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30147192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Will_Write_4_Coffee/pseuds/Will_Write_4_Coffee
Summary: Dominick Sonny Carisi is a lawyer for the mob-- their go-to fixer, keeping them out of prison for years.Did he mention he's related to them too?Amanda Rollins is under cover. Her objective: dig up dirt on the "cleanest crime family in New York".But can she do that without falling for her target?
Relationships: Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr./Amanda Rollins
Comments: 40
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter One

Amanda checked her makeup in the mirror, wiping caked on magenta from the corner of her mouth.

 _Hi, I’m Mandy_.

_Nice to meet you, I’m Mandy._

_Hey y’all, I’m Mandy…_

Adjusting the straps of her sequined top, she practiced her greeting over and over in her head.

It hadn't even been a full three weeks. No matter how natural her words flowed in the moment, she always felt the need to rehearse her opening.

_I’m Mandy._

She raked her fingers through her blonde hair, tousling the moussed curls.

_I’m Mandy._

Twisting in the mirror, she gave herself another once over.

_I’m—_

“Hey, Mandy,” a voice called. “You’re on in three.”

Amanda smiled. “Thanks.”

The house music thumped obnoxiously until the dressing room door closed behind the other dancer.

In the relative quiet, she refocused.

 _Amanda’s_ tension and nerves ebbed from her muscles, replaced by _Mandy’s_ confidence and swagger.

A thrill ran through her at the thought of how much cash she’d walk out of there with that night.

She almost wished she’d picked up dancing sooner—would’ve paid a lot of bills.

And debts.

Tightening the strings of her bikini bottom, she turned and click-clacked out into the club balanced on five-inch platform heels, B-lining for the main stage.

As soon as her song came on, she was grabbing the pole and swinging her body around it as gracefully as any of the experienced dancers.

Her thoughts faded, replaced only by the routine she’d perfected night after night.

 _This_ … was not covered in the academy handbook.

*********

Exiting the back of the town car, Dominick thanked the driver, passing him a twenty for a tip before shutting his door.

He should’ve stopped by earlier. 9pm on a Friday? The club would be packed, or close to it.

Double checking his Rolex, he frowned. He’d just have to make this quick…

The doorman to the Caddy Club nodded as he approached.

“Evening Mr. Carisi,” the burly man in a black puffer coat said. “Here for business or pleasure?”

He chuckled. “I prefer not to eat where I… Well, you know.”

Opening the heavy painted door, the bouncer grinned as Dominick passed over the threshold.

Instantly he was hit with a cloud of vanilla scented body spray and cheap beer.

The hip hop pumping through the speakers wasn’t to his taste, but at least it had a good rhythm.

Gaze forward, he strode past several stages with dancers swinging around poles, grinding to the beat and enticing their audiences to hand over as much cash as possible.

As he wove his way through the club, he unbuttoned his lengthy wool coat and suit jacket underneath. Jimmy always kept the place too hot.

Or just hot enough, he supposed, if you were one of the more scantily clad employees.

Jerking his head up in greeting to the bartender, he called, “Jimmy in his office?”

The woman shook her head, brunette ponytail swinging a little behind her.

“I think he stepped outside for a minute,” she said as she poured a well drink. “Want me to go grab him?”

Dominick waved the notion off. “Nah, it’s alright. I’ll get him. Thanks.”

Switching his briefcase to his other hand, he ducked around the corner past the main stage, heading for the back exit.

Two dancers in neon string bikinis and matching bright wigs walked towards him in the opposite direction.

“Hi, Sonny,” they called in tandem, waving.

Flashing a smile, he stepped to the side to let them through. “Ladies.”

He thanked his lucky stars he’d become desensitized to the strip club scene years ago, otherwise he’d be in trouble.

Shouldering open the door, he poked his head out into the alley.

“Listen, you ain’t gotta worry about that, alright? You have any problems, you come to me, got it?”

Dominick furrowed his brow, listening to the tail end of his phone call.

Scanning the dark, he finally spotted the man on the other side of the dumpster, cell pressed tight to his ear as he finished a cigarette.

“Jimmy!”

“I gotta go, I’ll talk to you later.” A glowing red butt arced across the asphalt, landing in a shallow puddle. “There he is! Sonny, you sonofabitch, how are ya?”

Smirking, Dominick leaned against the door, keeping it open. “Didn’t you promise Lisa you’d quit smoking?”

“Ahh—” Jimmy waved him off. “Life’s hard enough as it is. You really gonna take my vices too?”

“I think it’s the amount of vices that’s the problem,” Dominick commented.

Cursing at him with a wide smile, Jimmy hauled him into a fierce hug. Dominick might’ve been several inches taller than his cousin, but Jimmy got all the muscle.

There was a reason they called him The Ox.

“Good to see you, Sonny,” Jimmy said, smacking him on the back as he released him.

“Yeah, you too.” Lifting his briefcase slightly, he added, “I brought those papers you need.”

“Great! You can tell me how much this is gonna hurt me over drink.” Nudging him in the shoulder, Jimmy laughed as he headed back into the club.

As Dominick trailed behind him, he found himself in awe yet again at how easily Jimmy worked the crowds-- stopping by every booth he passed to say hello and chit-chat. Not a single patron was unaffected by his warmth and charm.

He had the Midas touch when it came to people.

And business too, if his revenue stats were anything to go by.

Swinging by the bar, Jimmy leaned over, motioning for the bartender.

“How’re things going?” He asked, voice dropping. “Anybody causing you trouble?”

“No, no, I’m good,” she said, shaking her head. “Thanks, Mr. Costanzo.”

Holding his arms out, he said, “How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Jimmy, huh?” He beamed, winking at her.

Scanning the room, Dominick noted the demographic for the night. Men, mostly, but there were more women in seats than he expected.

Date nights sure had modernized over the last few years.

As he turned, a flash of sequins and blonde hair caught his attention, and he did a double take.

On the main stage, illuminated by soft pink light, was a dancer Dominick hadn’t seen before.

Whirling around the pole, she dropped low, swaying and circling her hips to the music.

Dominick’s tie was suddenly way too tight.

“She’s good, right?” Jimmy said at his side, jarring him out of his thoughts.

“Uh, y-yeah, I…” Dominick swallowed. “She’s new, huh?”

“Yeah, but she’s a pro,” Jimmy said, sincerity coloring his words. “I put her on stage four, and within a week she was moved up to the main stage for three sets a night. Girl works hard.”

He had to hand it to Jimmy—he always appreciated an industrious individual.

“C’mon, it’ll be quieter in my office,” he added, motioning towards the back of the club.

Following his cousin, Dominick tried, and admittedly failed, at keeping his gaze straight ahead.

As they passed the main stage, he ducked his head, scratching behind his right ear—a nervous tick from when he was a kid.

Jimmy ushered him into his office right as the blonde dancer with the best legs he’d ever seen dropped into a split that had several people whistling in the audience.

His eyes bulged and he cursed under his breath.

Quickly schooling his expression, he forced his head back around.

_Get it together, Sonny._

********

Amanda scanned the crowd, pretending to flirt with the frat boys in the front row.

As paper bills fell at her feet, she hooked her leg around the sliver pole and spun in circles, lifting herself into the air.

Jimmy and his lawyer cousin Dominick had returned from the back alley.

She’d have to give this her all…

Timing each move perfectly, she whipped her hair over her shoulder as she bent at the waist to show off the curve of her… _ahem_ , assets.

She couldn’t stare directly—it would put off her customers while looking too conspicuous. Instead, she’d just have to trust that shaking everything the good Lord gave her would be enough honey to attract a fly.

Or several.

A woman approached the stage, waving a twenty-dollar bill at her, and Amanda grinned, crawling over on her hands and knees.

She tugged seductively at the straps of her sequined top, giving the woman a glimpse of what she was paying for.

“Thank you, sugar,” she purred as the woman slipped the money into her bikini. “You’re so gorgeous, I’d happily take you to the VIP lounge.”

The woman—maybe middle aged, and accompanied by a man who was clearly enjoying the show—blushed and stared up at Amanda with wide-eyed excitement.

“Can my boyfriend come?”

Amanda nodded and winked. “Sure, sweetheart. Just ask the manager for Mandy.”

As the woman giddily returned to her date, Amanda rolled her hips on the stage, smiling at the college kid in a Yankees cap.

Moving her way back to the pole, she kept an eye on the two gentlemen crossing the club floor.

Even in the dim light, Dominick looked like he was turning a deep shade of red as he ducked and scratched his right ear.

Spinning in a slow circle, she felt the extra pair of eyes on her and smirked.

Lining her posture up properly and dropping into a dramatic split at the front of the stage, she expected the chorus of whistles and aroused groans from her captive audience.

What caught her by surprise was the rough _“Christ,”_ she could hear despite the music pumping through the speakers.

Gathering up dollar bills from either side of her, she rubbed them up the length of her torso, lowering into a backbend she knew put her tits on full display.

The door to Jimmy’s office closed and Amanda grinned to herself.

The councilor was taking her bait.

*********

**_Three Weeks Prior_**

_Rushing from the breakroom, Amanda handed Nick his coffee while she sipped her own._

_“You ready?” He asked, gesturing towards the briefing room with the manila folder in his hand._

_“As I’ll ever be,” she muttered. “The Feds get back to us?”_

_“Murphy’s walking them up now,” Nick said, keeping pace with her._

_Her head snapped up. “They’re here?”_

_“It’s technically their case.”_

_“No, I know, but I just thought they’d phone it in for this part.”_

_Nick shrugged, white button down scrunching around his muscled shoulders._

_“Guess Agent Benson is more hands-on than we expected.”_

_Amanda’s gaze flicked to the ceiling. “Great.”_

_Rounding the corner, she quietly greeted the officers she passed. The conference table was already crowded with techs and forensics guys, but she managed to find a couple chairs near the front next to the wide bulletin board covered in photos and notes._

_Setting her coffee down, she took the folder from Nick and flipped it open, re-reading the file she could practically recite in her sleep._

_“Hey,” Nick murmured, leaning closer. “You good?”_

_“Yes, dad,” she teased, glancing up at him with a grin._

_“You know, you don’t have to do this,” he continued, brown eyes made even darker with concern. “We can get someone else, or the Feds—”_

_“We’ve been over this,” she cut in. “All our other UC’s are too green, they’ll get made in a minute. And the Feds don’t have someone with SVU experience that they can spare for this.”_

_Nick started to shake his head. “I still say we could borrow someone from Vice and school ‘em.”_

_“In two days?” She arched an eyebrow. “C’mon, Nick…”_

_Before he could argue more, Lieutenant Murphy strode into the squad room, trailed by two federal agents in blue and black suits._

_“Everybody,” he started, never slowing his gait. “This is Agent Olivia Benson and Agent Odafin Tutuola from the Federal Bureau Manhattan office. They’re running point on this case in tandem with the NYPD.”_

_Amanda straightened to her full height as Murphy and the agents walked to the front of the room._

_“Good morning,” Agent Benson said, facing the squad. “I understand there are some new additions to our group who need to be briefed, so we’ll do this as quickly as we can before establishing our next steps.”_

_Tucking a chestnut lock behind her ear, Benson scanned the room before turning towards the board behind her._

_“Meet the Costanzo crime family, aka the ‘Cleanest Mob in New York’,” she said, gesturing to the photo array with two fingers. “They’ve been under suspicion for illegal activity for decades, however the only person ever to be convicted of a crime is their Don, Mario Costanzo Sr.”_

_She pointed to a color photo of an elderly man exiting a restaurant. Next to it was a faded mugshot—the same man, but several years younger._

_“He went to prison in 1987 for tax fraud—sentenced to eight years, served three, was paroled for good behavior—and ever since then they’ve been Teflon.”_

_Agent Tutuola took half a step forward, hands in his pockets. “The NYPD has arrested several of the other Costanzo family members, but all the cases so far have been dropped for ‘insufficient evidence’.”_

_His suspicion was audible._

_“Dirty cops? Witness intimidation?” One of the techs asked, scribbling notes on a pad in front of him._

_Agent Benson shook her head. “More like witness bribery. From what we’ve been able to gather, the Costanzo code is green before red. They choose to pay off witnesses before resorting to violence.”_

_“And their method’s been working,” Murphy added from the side of the room. “No one has come forward about the Costanzos in years.”_

_“This is Mario James Costanzo,” Benson said, pointing to another color photo. “He goes by ‘Jimmy’. He’s Costanzo Sr.’s eldest son, and owner of several high-end strip clubs in the area. His main establishment is the Caddy Club here in Manhattan. It’s his home base of operation.”_

_Amanda’s spine tingled at the name of the strip club. She’d done so much research on the goings-on of the Caddy Club, she felt like she was already an employee._

_Well, technically, she was…_

_Agent Tutuola gestured to two other photos on the board. “Angelo and Sofia Costanzo, the middle and youngest children. Owners of the Bella Italia restaurant and Diamond salon, respectively.”_

_“The Costanzos have built up an empire of various businesses and real estate holdings, all of them legitimate, all of them with proper tax records,” Benson added._

_An officer seated at the back made a noise at the back of his throat. “Sounds like the American dream,” he muttered._

_Amanda rolled her eyes. “Except all of their businesses are perfect set ups for money laundering. And we’ve been able to connect them to several off-shore accounts worth a quarter of a billion dollars. I don’t care how good of a businessman you are, that kind of revenue is unheard of for legal goods and services.”_

_In the beat of silence that followed, she felt the two agents staring at her and she turned._

_“Detective Rollins, right?” Benson smiled._

_“Yes, ma’am,” Amanda said with a nod._

_“Rollins is our UC for this operation,” Murphy said, gaze shifting from the agents to Amanda. “She’s one of our best.”_

_The corner of Benson’s mouth quirked up. “Care to show us what you’ve got?”_

_Amanda glanced briefly at Nick before standing up._

_She wasn’t afraid of a challenge, even from a Fed._

_“The Costanzos have managed to stay under the radar so long for two reasons,” she said, holding up two fingers. “One, they only trust family. All businesses are owned and operated by Costanzo blood relatives. They don’t allow outsiders into their dealings, and they don’t hire out. Everything is done through and by a Costanzo family member.”_

_Glancing over her shoulder, she pointed to another color photo on the board._

_“This is the second reason,” she said. “Their in-house fixer, defense attorney Dominick Carisi Jr. aka ‘Sonny’.”_

_Catching Agent Benson’s gaze, she waited half a beat before continuing._

_“Dominick is the son of_ _Antonella Costanzo Carisi, Mario’s sister, and Dominick Carisi Sr.” Amanda gestured to several smaller pictures and notes tacked up. “Carisi Sr. was the Costanzo family council until he had a heart attack seven years ago and had to retire. Now his son is their go-to guy.”_

_“Carisi Jr. is employed by a firm here in the city,” Nick added, leaning back in his chair. “He’s got no record, no priors, nothing from his years at Fordham—hell, he even pays his parking tickets on time.”_

_Stepping back to the table, Amanda opened the folder and pulled out several crime scene photos._

_“Three years ago, Queens SVU caught the rape homicide of Daphne Harris,” Amanda started, turning to put the gruesome photos beneath the Costanzo family line up. “She’d been beaten, raped repeatedly, and shot twice in the head. Her body was left in a lot next to an abandoned car. Now, the car had been wiped completely—no prints, no hair or fibers—”_

_“The perp wore a condom,” Nick interjected, tilting his head to glance at the techs sitting nearby. “And they weren’t able to find any touch DNA.”_

_“The only evidence found was this…” Amanda held up a small plastic bag with a 3x5 color cardstock inside. “A promotion flier for the Caddy Club. On the back, someone wrote Dominick Carisi Jr.’s phone number.”_

_Nick crossed his arms. “He was questioned but, just like with everything else, nothing could stick.”_

_“Which leads us to this,” Agent Benson said. “Operation: Georgia Peach.” She flashed a smile at Amanda. “Aptly named for our UC here.”_

_Amanda pulled her blonde ponytail over her shoulder, trying not to look too pleased._

_Lieutenant Murphy took a few steps towards the front. “We have two objectives. To connect Harris’ murder to the Costanzo family, and to dig up enough dirt to convict under RICO and put every single one of them in prison for life. They might be the cleanest crime family in New York, but these bastards still have skeletons in their closet and we’re going to find them.”_

_Agent Tutuola nodded. “Nobody in the mob can stay clean forever.”_

_“Detective Rollins will be posing as Amanda ‘Mandy’ Jones, a dancer employed by the Caddy Club,” Agent Benson said. “Once she’s able to make contact and build trust, she’s going to need access to hidden wires, GPS trackers, video recorders, the whole nine yards.”_

_Amanda noticed how several techs took notes and whispered to each other, already devising a plan._

_“It’s possible the clubs are being used to traffic girls,” she said. “Which is why SVU has been tapped.”_

_“So you’ll be looking for a weak link at the club?” Another detective asked. “A girl tired of getting pimped out and ready to flip?”_

_Amanda smirked. “Not exactly.”_

_“We’re aiming a bit higher this time,” Murphy said, slipping his hands into his pockets._

_Twisting to look at the board, Amanda’s gaze landed squarely on the surveillance photo of Dominick Carisi entering Bella Italia with one of his older sisters—Teresa, she believed._

_They were going after the Costanzo family safety net._


	2. Chapter Two

Dominick leaned back in his chair, sipping the finger of scotch he’d been poured as he watched Jimmy scour every line of the new building permits.

“And this is zoned properly and everything?” Jimmy asked. “I don’t want any surprises mid-way through construction.”

“C’mon, you think I’d be here if it wasn’t?”

Jimmy chuckled. “You’re right. I’m just ready to get this fucking ball rolling already. I’ve been waiting—”

“Over a year, I know, I know.” Dominick took another pull from his rocks glass. “I promise, Jimmy, you’re all set. Construction on your _fourth_ strip joint can officially commence.”

“Hey, they’re _adult entertainment venues_ ,” Jimmy said, gesturing at him with the end of his pen. “Speaking of, we’re having Angelo’s birthday upstairs at Bella Italia, and I’ve been asked to provide some… company for the evening.”

Jimmy winked and Dominick rolled his eyes.

“Seriously? First you’re making Angelo spend his birthday at his own restaurant and then you’re gonna haul some barely legal strippers into a dinner with _our_ family?” He finished his drink but kept his glass in his hand. “I thought you wanted your employees to like you.”

“At least we know the food will be good,” Jimmy countered. “And what’re you, nuts? I’m not bringing the girls to the dinner. They’ll be there after. Consider them the cake after the cake.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m honest,” Jimmy said with a wide grin.

Nodding to Dominick’s empty glass, he waited for him to silently agree to another round before reaching for the bottle.

“Is that what you were talking about on the phone?” Dominick asked as his cousin poured.

“Huh?”

“Out in the alley, earlier,” he said. “You making plans for Angelo’s party?”

Jimmy’s brow furrowed for just a split second before he feigned recognition.

“Oh, that! Uh, yeah, yeah, I was just making sure the chef knew the menu for the night.”

Dominick eyed him over the rim of his glass.

Deep in his gut, something tugged urgently, alerting him to a falsehood he hadn’t pinned down yet.

But just like every time before, with almost every member of his family, Dominick ignored the sensation.

Letting the subject drop, he sipped his drink.

_Plausible deniability._

“So what time’s the party tomorrow?” He asked, focusing on the burn of the liquor as it flowed down his throat.

“Dinner’s at eight,” Jimmy said. “You driving?”

“Nah, I’ll take a car service.”

“Goodie goodie.”

Dominick smirked. “Yeah, and if I get a DUI, who else is gonna handle your real estate contracts?”

Making a noise at the back of his throat, Jimmy turned in his chair and opened up the filing cabinet behind his desk.

“Almost forgot,” he said as he moved several files out of the way. “Can you take a look at this liquor licensing thing from the Tropic?”

Finishing his drink, Dominick leaned forward to trade his glass for the file.

“Your Queens club get fined?”

“They’re saying we only have a beer and wine license, but we have paperwork stating otherwise…” Jimmy waved his hand. “You know how it is. The city can’t stand to see a guy like me with a thriving business.”

Humming a short acknowledgement, Dominick flipped open the file just to scan the first page before sliding it into his briefcase.

“I’ll look it over tonight,” he said, standing up.

“Tonight? Jesus, Sonny, by the time you get home it’ll be ten o’clock.”

A weary smile curved across his face. His cousin had no idea how many late nights he spent looking after all their family’s holdings.

“I’m actually heading back to the office,” he said, standing. “My boss called me in to assist on an international custody case. It’ll be a bitch, but it’ll put me in line for partner in the next year or so.”

Jimmy stood up, planting his hands on his hips. “Look at you-- lil Sonny climbing up that corporate ladder. Your Pops must be real proud.”

Dominick kept his expression neutral. “Yeah, y’know, he’s… he’s happy for me.”

As he reached across to shake his cousin’s hand, Jimmy pulled him in for a quick hug.

“You want me to walk you out? It’s probably getting wild out there.”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “I think I’ll be alright.”

“I’m sure,” Jimmy said, wagging his eyebrows at him.

Waving him off, Dominick opened the office door, momentarily jarred by the bass-heavy music.

As he strode across the club floor, weaving through clusters of people, he spotted the same blonde waves he’d seen before on the main stage and nearly tripped on his own feet.

She was standing next to a couple’s table, arching her back suggestively as she flirted.

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she giggled at something one of the patrons said and playfully stroked the man’s arm.

As he approached, all he could make out from their conversation was ‘like you’ and ‘champagne room’.

It was enough to send a wave of heat rolling through him, suddenly envious of the two people who had her full attention.

_That’s it, Sonny. No more brown liquor for a while._

Shaking his head, he tried to keep his eyes on the exit sign as he passed.

Something—someone—bumped into his side, knocking him off course.

“Oh goodness, I’m sorry, sugar,” a voice drawled.

Turning to see the woman who still had a hold of his elbow, he opened his mouth to speak.

All words died on his tongue as he stared into her ocean blue eyes.

“I should really watch where I’m going,” she continued, southern accent dripping from every syllable.

Dominick shook his head, swallowing hard. “N-nah, it’s… it’s fine.”

Her smile was bright as she smoothed the wrinkles from his coat sleeve.

“Enjoy your night,” she said as she moved around him, leading the couple she’d been upselling towards the VIP lounge.

“You too,” he said, head swiveling to follow her.

He didn’t miss the once over she gave him as she walked away.

Collecting himself, he continued out of the club, already preparing his speech for the confessional that Sunday.

**********

At the end of her shift, as Amanda rubbed her sore feet, one of the other dancers—Trish—strolled over to her.

“Okay, spill,” she said as she carefully removed the pins keeping her neon purple wig in place. “Where’d you learn that backbend?”

Amanda laughed. “Would you believe me if I said middle school gymnastics?”

Another dancer with her leg propped up on the vanity counter as she spread glittery body lotion over her thigh whistled between her teeth.

“Oh my god, talk about flashbacks,” she laughed. “I used to do gymnastics until I had a growth spurt. Then I was all limbs and no coordination.”

“So not much has changed, huh?” Trish teased.

A tube of lipstick arched in the air, missing Trish by a millimeter.

The women laughed, infecting Amanda with their delight.

She’d prepared for cold-shoulders and having to prove herself as the new girl amongst the seasoned professionals.

She hadn’t expected all the other dancers to be more welcoming than a church ladies’ luncheon, and twice as genuine.

“You’re… Mandy, right?” The other girl asked, switching to her other leg with her glittery lotion.

“Yeah, but you can call me Amanda,” she said. “Mandy’s just for out there,” she added, jerking her thumb towards the door.

As Trish pulled her false lashes off in the mirror, she said, “Some of us were gonna hit up a yoga class tomorrow before our shift. You wanna come?”

Amanda started to nod but faltered. “Oh, uh, I would but I’m supposed to get coffee with a friend.”

“Your friend can come too,” Trish said.

Snorting at the thought of Amaro attempting downward facing dog, she shook her head. “I’m not sure yoga’s really his thing. But I’d love to come next time.”

“You got it.”

The dressing room door opened and a younger dancer in pigtails and school girl costume poked her head in.

“Hey, Mandy? Mr. Costanzo would like to see you.”

“Did he say why?” She asked, trying to sound casual despite the nervous jolt in her stomach.

“Something about a party… I’m not sure.”

“Okay, thanks,” she said, quickly gathering up her street clothes and changing in lightning speed.

Saying goodnight to the others in the dressing room, she ducked out and kept her head down so as not to ruin the illusion for any of her customers that might be lingering for the later sets.

Knocking twice on the office door, she heard a muffled, ‘come in’ and twisted the handle.

“Hey, there’s my new shining star,” Jimmy exclaimed, standing up from his desk.

“I dunno about that,” she started, flashing a smile.

“But you’re settling in okay, right?” He asked, dark brows drawn into an earnest expression.

Amanda nodded. “Absolutely. I really like it here—way more than the last club I worked at.”

He grinned. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Scanning the room quickly, she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

“One of the girls said you had a question about a party?” She asked.

“I wanted to ask if you’d work a private event tomorrow,” he said, coming around to the front of his desk but keeping a respectable distance. “It’s my brother’s thirty-fifth birthday and he needs to blow off some steam.” Chuckling, he added, “We all do, to be honest.”

Amanda blinked. “Oh, I see,” she said, trying not to look surprised. “I don’t see why not. I’d be happy to.”

Her gaze drifted to the papers on his desk, but she was too far away to see anything that was written on them.

“Is it just me, or…”

“God, no,” Jimmy said, waving his hand. “There’s four, probably five others coming. You won’t have to do anything out of the ordinary—no funny business, I swear.”

Turning, he scribbled something on a Post It and handed to her.

“That’s the address of the restaurant. Be there at 10, and if you take an Uber send me your bill and I’ll cover your transportation costs.”

Amanda stared at the note—even with his messy handwriting, she recognized the address for Bella Italia.

“You’ll get paid the private event rate plus your tips,” Jimmy continued. “And trust me, my family tips well.”

She didn’t doubt it. She’d never worked anywhere—even the NYPD—that took better care of its employees than the Caddy Club.

 _Green before red,_ she thought, remembering the Costanzo family code.

Nodding, she smiled at him with all of _Mandy’s_ confidence. “Any special requests for the birthday boy?”

Jimmy laughed. “His favorite color’s blue. See what you can do with that.”

Saluting him with two fingers, she said, “Yes, sir,” with a wink.

“See you tomorrow,” Jimmy said. Gesturing towards the main club, he added, “Have Sal call you a cab.”

She’d learned not to argue the merits of ‘being able to take care of herself’ with the boss.

“Will do,” she said as she left.

Tucking the sticky note into the pocket of her leather jacket, Amanda tried not to let her nerves get the best of her.

She was going to be at a private Costanzo event a mere three weeks after starting her UC operation.

Nick was going to choke on his coffee when she told him.

***********

The chain coffee house was mostly empty when Amanda entered—the benefits of picking an off hour to meet.

Ordering her large, two-percent latte and a lemon poppy seed muffin, she wandered to the empty stool at the window counter.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Amaro barely looked up from under the brim of his ballcap. “Nope, all yours.”

Staring out at the rainy spring morning as she unbuttoned her denim jacket, she settled in quietly. She didn’t speak until after her order was brought out and she’d taken a hearty sip.

“Got anything for me?” She asked behind her cup, voice barely above a whisper.

“Murphy sends his regards,” Nick said, flipping through the day-old newspaper in front of him.

Amanda snorted. “He’s freaking out, isn’t he?”

“Oh yeah. Big time.”

Tearing a piece of her muffin off and shoving it in her mouth, she glanced at the faint reflection of the café behind her in the glass. No one seemed to be paying attention to them.

“He’s just worried I’m gonna quit the force and take up stripping full time.”

Nick adjusted the collar of his jacket, trying not to seem uncomfortable with the topic.

“Yeah, but you’re not…” He tilted his head slightly. “Right?”

“Geez, three weeks without me and y’all are spiraling.” Sipping her coffee, she waited a beat before adding, “No, I’m not. But my _assets_ are helping me get in good with Jimmy.”

Before Amaro could stroke out, she continued.

“He hired me to work a private party tonight.” Her gaze flicked across to meet his. “At Bella Italia.”

“Since when does a red sauce and table wine joint need exotic dancers?”

“It’s Angelo’s birthday,” she said as she ate. “I guess his brother wants him to celebrate his big day with a bang.”

Nick froze with his hand on the paper.

“Not… like that,” she told him.

Shaking his head, Nick muttered, “Of all the UC gigs…”

“It’s really not that bad,” she assured. “And the cash is kind of a nice bonus.”

“I bet.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “I can’t even _imagine_ your stance on all of this.”

Inhaling sharply to argue, he halted, swallowing everything back down.

It wasn’t the time or place.

“Look, I just want you to watch your back,” he said, leaning his elbows on the counter. “That’s all.”

“I am, Nick,” she murmured. “I promise.”

“Mhm.”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the occasional _whir_ from the espresso machine or the newspaper crinkling as Amaro flipped another page.

“So…” He said finally. “Private party at Bella Italia’s. You know who’s gonna be there?”

“From what I can gather, it’ll be a lot of the Costanzo men,” she said. “I was told to be there at ten and I can’t imagine I’m gonna be dancing for the sisters or aunts.” She arched an eyebrow, making a noise at the back of her throat. “Although, I wouldn’t be too surprised if one of the Carisi sisters was into it…”

Nick’s gaze shifted to meet hers in the window reflection. “Seriously?”

“There’s usually one in every family, Italian-Catholic or not.”

That got him to smile, and the tension ebbed a bit from his shoulders.

“So you’ll need to be wired for tonight,” he said.

Amanda lifted her cup, pausing before it reached her lips. “Unless we can get something hooked up in a piece of jewelry, a wire won’t work.”

“I’ll make a call,” Nick said. “Maybe our new best friends lent something useful.”

“How’re y’all doing with Benson and Tutuola?”

He shrugged. “Fine… When they’re not in the squad room.”

“Uh oh.”

“It’s just a bunch of posturing with Murphy and the brass,” he said. “They’ll calm down.”

Swiveling his seat around a quarter of a turn, Nick scanned the café before reaching into his pocket.

“I got you something,” he said, pulling his phone out.

After a moment of scrolling, he set his cell on the counter between them so she could see the screen.

The bright photo of Franny laying in the grass, a chew toy between her front paws, almost had Amanda gasping.

“Aww, my baby,” she cooed from behind her hand. “How’s she doing?”

“Good,” he said, smiling as he nodded. “Zara keeps sneaking her treats when she thinks I’m not looking.”

Amanda giggled, still looking at the picture of her beloved dog. “She’s not gonna want to come back to my place after all that spoiling.”

“Nah, she misses you. I can tell.”

“Give her an extra bone for me, okay?”

Taking his phone off the counter, he agreed.

Checking her watch, Amanda started to gather her things. “I gotta head out.”

“I thought the party wasn’t until ten.”

“It is. I gotta shop for a new _outfit_ ,” she said, emphasis on the word making Nick’s eyes widen. “Apparently the birthday boy likes blue.”

As she stood up, he glanced over with a subtle head tilt.

“Keep your burner on you. I’ll call you about the wire drop.”

“Thanks,” she said, balling her trash in her fist. “Same time next week?”

“Yup.”

Amanda smiled. “Have a nice day,” she said, just a little louder than before, maintaining their cover as strangers.

“Yeah, you too,” Nick replied, folding his newspaper over.

Leaving the café with her half-drunk coffee in hand, Amanda turned to purposefully cross in front of the window Nick sat at just so she could make eye contact with him for half a second.

The plea of _stay safe_ was written all over his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a lot of set up but things are about to get REALLY good, I promise. I love you all, thank you so much for reading!! <333


	3. Chapter Three

Dinner was… loud.

The lavish event space above the main restaurant still seemed too small with nearly all members of the Costanzos and Carisis packed inside.

Sipping his third glass of wine, Dominick tried—and failed—to ignore the argument his sisters were having around him at their end of one of the banquet tables.

His mother fussed over her grandchildren, and then over him, asking repeatedly why he always came to dinners alone.

His Pops asked about work, the firm, his new truck— _why would he get a truck when he lived in the city, was he planning to move back to Staten Island, he was gonna hemorrhage money paying for a garage…_

And his sister Teresa only asked three hypothetical questions about divorce court and possible alimony.

A pretty typical family affair, to be honest.

They ate, drank, and drank some more.

The only thing missing was Uncle Mario…

Before the main course was served, Dominick passed Jimmy on the way to the restrooms, and paused.

“Hey, is Uncle Mario doing alright?” He asked, gesturing with one hand while the other slipped into his trouser pocket. “I thought he was coming tonight.”

Skimming his hand over his gelled black hair, Jimmy waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, he’s fine. He said he was feeling kinda tired—his leg’s giving him fits again, so…”

Dominick winced in sympathy. “Damn. Well give him my best when you talk to him.”

“Will do,” Jimmy said, patting him on the shoulder as he headed back to the table.

All his life, Dominick had never heard of Mario missing a family get together—especially his son’s birthday.

The man was in his seventies though. Being tired and having pains came with the territory.

When he returned, Gina and Bella were gossiping about one of Gina’s prospective boyfriends, huddled over her cellphone as she scrolled through picture after picture.

“You know, Sonny, he’s got a sister,” Gina said, pushing her curly brown hair off her forehead.

“Don’t you have enough sisters?” He retorted, laying his napkin across his lap.

Gina laughed. “I meant for _you_. I thought lawyers were supposed to be sharp.”

Dominick leaned on his forearms, already exhausted by the conversation. “Jesus, Gina, really?”

“What?”

“You’re in on this too?”

“Oh, c’mon—”

“I hear enough about it from mom and dad, but now—”

“We just want to see you happy, Sonny—”

“You know what would make me happy?”

He didn’t get a chance to finish, as someone started tapping their glass with a fork to get everyone’s attention. A hush fell across the room—a rarity for them.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Gina whispered, turning towards Angelo who stood at the front of the room.

“We’ll talk about it _never_ ,” he countered, gritting his teeth.

Raking his hand through his dark, wavy hair, Angelo smiled nervously. “I was _encouraged_ to say a few words,” he started, glancing down at his wife Beth Ann, who grinned sweetly.

She was about as Italian as the Kentucky Derby, but she carried herself just like one of Dominick’s sisters, and that included the air of ‘don’t fuck with me.’

Beth Ann was a Costanzo in more than name alone.

As Angelo gave a short speech on feeling blessed everyday but especially on his birthday, surrounded by family and friends, Dominick ignored the buzzing in his pocket.

Work could wait for forty-five seconds while his cousin wrapped up his thank yous and everyone raised a glass.

While plates of food were brought out, Dominick excused himself from the table and found a spot at the end of the short bar to check his messages.

A few court documents had been misfiled, two had been misplaced, and one of the paralegals was having a full-blown panic attack about what to tell their boss.

Leaning on the bar top casually, he called the number back.

“Mr. Carisi, I’m—”

“Easy Chad,” he cut in. “Take a breath. Okay, so here’s what you’re gonna do… Call Deb at the clerk’s office, tell her to yellow flag that file and she’ll set it aside for us. Tell her you’re doing it for me, and she’ll work with you. Then you’re gonna go through discovery boxes six through eight, maybe nine, and I can almost guarantee you’ll find those missing documents.”

“How would y—”

“’Cause Gary was the last one who had them and he was going through those boxes after lunch. The man is a great lawyer but his attention span drops to the fuckin’ basement after he eats lunch—I mean, he practically needs an epinephrine shot to the heart just to stay awake in afternoon firm meetings. So he probably tucked them in one of those boxes without realizing.”

The breathing on the other end of the line steadied.

“Okay… Yeah, I can…”

Dominick smiled as he snagged an olive out of the garnish tray and popped it in his mouth. “See? Every problem has a solution.”

“Th-thank you, Mr. Carisi.”

“No problem, Chad. Call if you have any other issues, alright?”

“I will. Thanks again.”

Hanging up, Dominick tucked his phone in his pocket but lingered away from the group for another minute.

Law, case work, filing mishaps… None of that compared to the verbal brawling his family put him through.

Inhaling deeply, he held it for a beat before releasing it.

_Alright. Time for round eight…_

**********

By nine-thirty, most of the family had clambered into Ubers or rented town cars, arms loaded up with sleeping children and doggie bags.

The wives and girlfriends and sisters were all ushered out soon after, handed bottles of wine as parting gifts, and told over and over the men were just going to play poker and smoke smelly cigars for a couple hours.

Dominick checked his watch. If he left right that second, he’d have enough time to swing by the office and check that Chad wasn’t hyperventilating still and then go home to watch bad tv while taking case notes.

“Don’t even think about it,” Angelo said, appearing at his shoulder. “If I’m suffering through this, so are you.”

“This is you suffering?” He gestured at his cousin—his tie already loosened and tan complexion a hint ruddier from the many glasses of merlot. “I’d hate to see you having a good time then.”

Angelo clapped him on the back. “You know what I mean,” he said. “Jimmy’s bringing girls, isn’t he?”

“Yeah—wait, I thought you requested this little after-hours show.”

Angelo scoffed. “Are you kidding? I’m thirty-five, not twenty-one. I wanted to be in bed half an hour ago.”

Laughing with his whole chest, Dominick didn’t mind getting shoved towards the poker table being set up by a couple members of the waitstaff.

A new group of guys entered up the stairs—Dominick recognized a few of them from parties thrown at Angelo’s house or nights out with Jimmy, but he was hard pressed to recall their names.

As everyone greeted each other with enthusiastic handshakes turning into hugs, he wound his way towards the bar and the lone bartender pouring shots.

“If I pay you twenty bucks, will you put iced tea in a rocks glass and tell everybody I’m drinking scotch?”

The younger guy blinked. “Uh… I don’t think I have any iced tea,” he admitted, embarrassed.

Dominick nodded, flattening his lips into a line. “Scotch it is then.”

Pulling his phone out, he texted Chad, checking in.

**Chad: Everything’s good here. Enjoy your night!**

Damn.

The whistles and clapping announced their arrival before he could even see them.

But Dominick knew.

“Fellas,” Jimmy started, parting the group like Moses. “It is my absolute pleasure to introduce you to our special guests this evening…”

Rolling his eyes to himself as he took a sip of his drink, Dominick barely glanced up.

Five women lined up behind Jimmy, already working the crowd with sultry stares and delicate waves. Long coats barely hid their skimpy outfits or their impressive curves, but they didn’t move to take them off just yet.

Sighing, he turned towards the dancers, already planning his escape.

Maybe he could fake the flu—no, IBS. No one would want him to stick around then.

His heart jumped into his throat at the first glimpse of blonde waves.

 _Oh God. Oh God, Oh, G_ —

“Alright, you guys know the drill,” Jimmy continued. “Behave or else, but have fun and for Christ’s sake, tip these girls what they’re worth. And they’re worth a whole helluva lot.”

Taking one of the dancers by the hand, he spun her in a slow circle and winked at one of his buddies.

Dominick was already sweating through his dress shirt. Thank God he’d picked a dark color.

The women moved through the crowd of drooling men, introducing themselves and flirting a bit to warm everyone up.

“We’re gonna go get ourselves ready for you boys,” one girl—Trish, he thought her name was, said. “Hope you’re ready to party.”

Dominick was ready to pass out.

The athletic blonde he’d quite literally bumped into the night before nodded at him, smiling sweetly.

“She’s hot,” one of Jimmy’s friends said, leaning over to him.

“Y-yeah, she’s…” His throat was too dry.

He hadn’t been this nervous since his first time in a court room.

Downing his drink, he turned to the bartender, and gestured for another.

“Want me to find some ‘scotch’?” the guy asked, making subtle air quotes.

He shook his head. “No. I’m gonna need the real stuff. And probably a lot of it.”

*********

Technically, his cousins hadn’t lied to their wives and girlfriends.

They were playing poker.

They just also happened to have half-naked women perched in their laps as they tossed chips in and cursed their losing streaks.

It was the prelude to what Dominick was certain would be quite a show for Angelo.

He made it a point to stay glued to the hardwood bar, making conversation with whoever was nearest.

If he wasn’t in the mix, he couldn’t embarrass himself.

Or so he thought.

“Hi there,” a voice purred to his left.

Jumping a little, he turned to see a young twenty-something with a short black bob smiling at him. Her leather bikini and knee-high boots screamed ‘edge’ – perfect for anyone looking to indulge a more dominant fantasy.

“Uh, h-hey, hi,” he stuttered, forcing his gaze to stay at eye level.

“I heard you’re Jimmy’s cousin,” she said, leaning in closer. “But you’re sitting all alone.”

“Oh, I’m… I’m not…” He glanced over at the bartender, gesturing weakly. “We were, uh…”

“He’s all yours,” the bartender said, winking at him as if he was helping him out.

“Thanks, pal,” Dominick muttered.

Light, delicate hands skipped up his chest, tugging playfully at his tie and vest.

“You’re a little… over dressed, dontcha think?”

Heat rose up on his cheeks. “Oh, well, I… I came here from work, so…”

“What do you do?” She asked, hooking her thumb into one of his belt loops.

She really was doing her best to lasso him. He had to give her credit.

“I’m—it’s boring, really,” he said, still trying to devise an exit strategy. “I’m a lawyer.”

“Oooh, corporate, copyright, or criminal?”

He blinked. “Mostly corporate, but we do criminal defense cases too.”

“That sounds… tense,” she murmured, dragging her red nails over his thigh.

Wriggling under her touch, he tried not to look like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Uh, you know, it kinda is, but, um…” He jerked his head towards another cluster of men. “I think a couple guys down that way might be more your speed.”

Arching an eyebrow, she glanced over before humming quietly.

“Not that I’m not… uh, well…” He swallowed. “I’m just not as liberated as some of my friends here.”

Understanding lit up her hazel gaze. “Ooooh, I see.” She smiled, smoothing the front of his vest. “Next time I’ll wear my candy striper outfit for you. Nice and wholesome.”

He coughed out a laugh.

Wholesome. Sure.

As she strolled away, hips swaying to show him what he was missing out on, Dominick motioned for another drink and requested ice that time.

He didn’t have long to calm his pulse, however.

“Sonny!” Jimmy’s voice boomed. “Hey, what’re you doin’ all the way over here?”

Before he could argue, his intoxicated cousin was hauling him away from the bar.

“The party is just gettin’ started,” Jimmy told him, yoking him with one burly arm. “C’mon, this’ll be fun.”

“I seriously doubt that,” he muttered.

A folding chair appeared in the center of the room and the men circled, already whooping and hollering as Angelo was led out by two of the dancers holding feather boas around his neck.

Guiding him to sit down, one girl in hot pink lace blind folded him while the other dancer in a fishnet bodysuit started grinding on Angelo’s lap.

 _This_ was the main event.

Dominick would have done anything for another drink.

As Angelo got the lap dance of a lifetime, complete with props and birthday themed games, the girls switched out every so often to give them all a turn.

The second the blonde appeared, positioning herself between Angelo’s knees, Dominick tensed.

“Told you she works hard,” Jimmy said in his ear over the music. “You like her?”

Dominick nodded.

He _actually_ nodded. What a betrayal from his own body.

“I thought you would,” Jimmy said, grinning as he patted him on the back. “Don’t worry, Sonny. You’re up next.”

Dominick’s head whipped around so fast he felt a muscle spasm.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Jimmy said, already waving for one of his buddies to bring out a second chair. “We gotta loosen you up a bit, Sonny! You’re wound so tight you’re gonna shit a diamond one day.”

“That’s—” He was cut off by Jimmy shoving him lightly towards the second folding chair.

“Mandy,” Jimmy called.

Dominick’s chest tightened.

“Mandy, honey, this is my cousin Sonny,” he continued, looping an arm gently around her waist. “He’s a hot shot lawyer and he’s _very_ lonely.”

“Christ, Jimmy,” he muttered but no one heard him.

Flipping her long hair over her shoulder, Mandy stared up at him and smiled. “Hi, handsome.”

All coherent thought left his mind.

“You might have to start him out easy,” Jimmy told her. “He’s a better Catholic than the rest of us.”

“That’s not—I mean,” he faltered. “I guess I… but I’m not—”

“Don’t worry, sugar,” Mandy cut him off. “No one here is gonna report you to the diocese.”

Despite the torrent of nerves, Dominick laughed. “Wouldn’t that be something.”

Urging him to sit, she backed him up against the chair until he had no other choice but to lower into it.

“You don’t have to, you know, um…” He shook his head, pinching his eyes shut. “I mean, I know that’s what you’re here for and it’s your job, and I respect that, but—”

“Do you always talk this much?” She asked, looking him over with an amused expression.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I even talk in my sleep.”

“I bet your girlfriend loves that.”

He rubbed his palms down his pants legs. “I’m sure it’d be a problem if I had one. But…”

“You mean a handsome, successful attorney like you can’t hold onto a woman?” She stepped closer, crowding into his space. “Guess that means there’s no hope for the rest of us.”

“It just means not that many people like finally getting to see their boyfriend at ten o’clock six nights a week,” he said.

As Mandy slowly circled her hips, she smiled. “Good thing I’m used to late nights.”

He flashed a grin before he fully caught her statement, blinking up at her.

“Lean back, honey,” she told him, pushing at his shoulders. “The view’s better that way.”

His view was perfect already.

Barely covered in a cobalt blue lingerie set, every inch of her was either on display or about to be with the right angle.

Nestled in her cleavage was a tear drop crystal necklace made to look like a precious gem, but he guessed otherwise. He couldn’t imagine she’d wear her valuable stuff to work.

She was hypnotizing—fair skin dotted with freckles that looked like constellations across her body, blonde waves that brushed against his leg or wrist as she moved, and a smile that stole his breath.

“Relax, councilor,” Mandy murmured as she rolled her body up his torso, gaze dropping to his clenched hand. “You’re supposed to enjoy this.”

“No, I-I am, I…” He cleared his throat. “I guess this isn’t something I’m used to doing. In public, anyway.”

“But you’re used to it in private?” She asked, arching an eyebrow and smirking.

Chuckling low in his chest, he said, “I might not be as good of a Catholic as my cousin thinks I am.”

Delight lit up her blue eyes. “Good to know.”

Dropping low, she placed her hands on his knees for balance as she put herself in position that was _very_ similar to something he most definitely wouldn’t do in public.

Not without discussing it first, at least.

“That tie looks tight,” she said, inching her way up, barely dragging her breasts over his abdomen. “Want me to help with that?”

“Uh…” His brain was dangerously close to short-circuiting.

Grinning, she straddled his thighs and started to undo his tie.

_Fuck._

“Well at least I know _part_ of you is having a good time.”

He would’ve been embarrassed but he was too busy feeling every movement as she teased him with her hips.

“Hey,” she whispered, locking eyes with him. “It’s just us here. Nobody else.”

As she leaned closer, her hair curtained around him, aiding in the illusion that no one else was in the room with them.

She smelled like lavender and nice perfume—the good stuff you didn’t have to drown yourself in.

“I got you,” she continued, tugging at the straps of her bra suggestively.

The anxiety gurgling in his stomach disappeared.

Lifting off his lap, she spun in a tight circle, giving him a brand new but oh-so welcome view of her curves.

He was going to lie awake at night thinking of her ass.

“How’s that working for you?” She asked over her shoulder. “Still battling church sanctioned guilt?”

The dark chuckle that left his throat barely sounded like him.

“I think I’m cured,” he said, fingers twitching against his knee.

Flipping her hair back, she laughed.

It was a gorgeous sound that sent fresh warmth coursing through his veins.

As she hit each pose just right, he sank deeper into the folding chair. Time lost all meaning as she writhed and gyrated, flashing centimeters of previously covered skin.

If she actually took her top off, he wouldn’t survive.

Not that it’d be a bad way to go…

Movement across the room caught his eye and despite the siren _literally_ in his lap, he tilted his head to see Jimmy passing a folded envelope to one of the other guests obscured by shadow.

That same urgent tugging in his gut returned.

“I’m not boring you now, am I?” Mandy asked, lips dangerously close to his ear.

Dominick shook his head, looking up at her. “Never.”

“Good, ‘cause I’d hate to think I’ve lost my touch.”

The corner of his mouth curved. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

She started to speak…

And then glass shattered behind him and all he heard was shouting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told ya ;)  
> Thank you all for reading! All comments are loved and appreciated beyond words! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! All comments are loved and appreciated more than you could ever know <3


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